


Mechanical Error

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Bondage, But Still Dub-Con, Improbable Physical Stuff, M/M, Shame, Sticky Sex, light dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:10:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That kind of gift has to have a catch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mechanical Error

**Author's Note:**

> Another old fic. I'll just throw it out there that I don't actually believe this is how Blurr works, it was just me dicking around.

Blurr shifted nervously on his pedes. He always tended to fidget when standing still, even in front of superior officers, but today Longarm recognized a particular sense of urgency. 

“Yes, what is it?” He tried to make his voice sound kind, as per the norm. Judging by the sharp flinch he received from Blurr, though, some of his annoyance must have slipped through. Regardless, the agent held his stiff salute and spoke. 

“Sir-I-would-like-to-request-a-change-in-post. See-I’m-just-not-meant-for-patrol-duty-because-it’s-slow-and-you-have-to-move-slow-and-I’m-just-not-made-for-slow-no-Sir-” he cut himself off, looking away nervously. Longarm hunched over his desk, sliding his hands over his weary face. 

“Agent Blurr,” he blew air between his servos, impatiently, “if there is no real reason you need to transfer shifts, I don’t see why I should even consider humoring that request.” Blurr shuffled again, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Well,-you-see-Sir,-it’s-less-of-a-mental-reason-and-more-of-a-mechanical-one-even-medical-I-guess-because-I’m-fine-to-do-all-the-work-I’m-supposed-to-just-like-any-other-Autobot-would-and-should-but-I-have-this-this-this-problem.” 

Longarm rolled his eyes at the stuttering. Blurr always tended to repeat himself when he was worked up, a trait which Longarm found supremely annoying. Furthermore: ‘Medical reasons’, _please_. He’d heard better excuses from ‘Bots with half their processors ripped out. He opened his mouth to interject, but Blurr started up again before he had the chance.

“I’m-supposed-to-go-fast-but-on-patrol-you-go-slow-so-I-do-go-slow-because-I-want-to-do-the-job-right-but-going-slow-is-when-the-problem, uh…uhm…”he clicked his knees together, speech finally halting to a pace that almost approached normal as he trailed off. Longarm peered at him between his servos. When Blurr had first entered his office, he had been aware of the usual runoff warmth that followed the agent everywhere, a byproduct of his constant rushing and his systems accommodating for it. Now that Blurr was standing relatively still, he should have cooled down. 

He had not, though, and this piqued Longarm’s interest. More than it probably should have. He focused his optics more clearly on his subordinate, brightening the dark room almost imperceptibly. _This_ had the potential to be interesting.

“Yes, Agent Blurr?” the agent in question stuttered again, meaningless noise, looking sharply up at his Prime. Longarm’s tone had shifted, unexpectedly, from exhausted annoyance to a far smoother drawl. It almost made the situation worse, because now Longarm was really paying attention, leaning across his desk to look at Blurr. Coolant pooled behind his burning cheeks, his processor whirling a mile a klik. He held his faceplates as still as possible. 

“Well, it’s…I-just-think…” Blurr couldn’t think though, too caught up in his own shame and nerves to fully form a sentence able to describe his predicament. Longarm smiled. 

“If it’s a medical issue,” he coaxed, “perhaps I should look you over first.”

Blurr was taken aback. 

“Wh-what?”  Longarm looked firm as he leaned closer still, standing from his chair and solidly planting his hands on his desk. 

“If it’s a real, _medical_ problem, shouldn’t I make sure you don’t need a visit to the med bay?”  He didn’t move to step around his desk, but Blurr could practically feel the air of his superiors’ ventilations on his plating. 

“It’s not… _that_ kind of medical problem…” he mumbled, stepping back. Longarm managed to keep his field from advancing on Blurr, following his slow retreat to the back wall. Blurr was young, easy to spook. He would have to go about this very carefully. 

“Agent Blurr, you are either going to have to explain to me exactly what the problem you’ve been having is, or you are going to have to provide physical proof”. Blurr flinched visibly. _Good,_ thought Longarm. It stirred him. 

“Maybe… _just-pretend-this-never-happened-Sir-I’m-sorry-to-have-bothered-you!_ ” Blurr made a run for it. 

He must not have really wanted to leave, though, because Longarm caught him.

His arms extended, across the desk with startling speed, and he grabbed Blurr’s left pede. The force would normally have bowled them both over, but Longarm was just able to get his other arm there and wrap it up around Blurr’s opposite thigh, holding him upright. Before the agent could protest, Longarm had wound himself around Blurr from knees to neck, binding him still. He squirmed, yelping in protest. 

“Sir!” 

Longarm tutted in response, shifting his arms into an even tighter hold. Blurr was trembling with effort, trying to wriggle his way out. 

“You can’t just come in here, making claims about your apparently fragile health and subsequently keeping me past my shift, and then expect to walk away with no repercussions.” 

Blurr stilled his struggles, looking at Longarm with an expression of pure horror. Oh, how adorable. Longarm shook his head, the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips. These younger ‘Bots really had no idea how to deal with authority. One of his hands reached up, patting the agent on the shoulder plating gently in a way that was meant to be both reassuring and authoritative. 

He stood, walking across the room while simultaneously retracting his arms until they met in the center. Blurr’s pedes dragged across the flooring and he shuffled awkwardly, trying to keep from falling. Longarm managed to look down his nasal ridge at Blurr, despite being shorter, and he shrank back and looked away. 

“So tell me,” Longarm continued, tapping his servos against the thick plating of Blurr’s back cover, “what, _exactly_ , is this ‘medical issue’ you’re dealing with?” 

Regaining a bit of his posture, Blurr tried to pull a straight face. 

“Sir, I-believe-this-is-highly-irregular-behavior-and-I-feel-I-must-ask-you-to-ceice-and-desist-or-I-will-be-forced-to-involve-the-Magnus.” 

Any trace of humor dropped away from Longarm’s face, as if he had purged the very emotion from his personality core. The grip he held on Blurr’s thighs tightened marginally, just enough to make things uncomfortable, and he squirmed again. 

“Your medical health is not a light matter, Agent Blurr.” Despite his serious expression, his tone was less angry than chiding, talking down to him like a misbehaving cadet. 

“Since you appear to be suffering great discomfort at the servos of your…affliction, yet seem to have no desire to remedy the issue yourself, it falls upon me to ensure that my agent is fully functional and happy with his position.” It made sense, really, and though Blurr still felt the nature of Longarm’s confrontation was dubious at best, he felt himself bow his neck slightly in shame. 

“Sir, it’s just that…the-nature-of-my-problem-is- _highly_ -sensitive.” Longarm’s resolve did not falter, lips pursed tight. Blurr cursed his poor choice of words, wishing to look at anything but his boss. Deciding there was no way out but through, he off lined his optics and swallowed thickly. With the weight of Longarm’s gaze falling heavy on him, he revved his engines. 

Everything below the waist purred to life beneath Longarm’s touch. Blurr’s legs twitched and jumped, as if he was trying to run away, and he held him tighter. Without fail, the internal mechanics inside his legs _crunched_ together, trying to force their way through the obstruction at a speed they were not currently allowed. 

Brows furrowed, Longarm began to scold him again.

“ _Agent Blurr_ -” He cut himself off, optics widening, when Blurr revved again, harder this time. The gears in his upper thighs screamed, grating together close to painfully. His arms stiffened where they met leg, taking note of the strain beneath the mesh. Blurr’s energy field spiked suddenly, distressed. 

“Your symptoms are this early onset?” Longarm’s voice had softened, prompting Blurr to look up. Something dangerous hid behind his words. Blurr tried to still himself, but the process had already gone too far. He was beginning to panic. 

“Yes, Sir,” he said, an arm automatically jumping in its bonding as he tried to salute. Catching on, Longarm smiled again, this time somewhat meanly, and Blurr felt ashamed of his lack of self control on so many fronts. Still, though, it seemed to have the benefit of resolving Longarm’s curiosity, as he loosened his hold slightly and stepped back. 

“And this is painful for you?” Again, Blurr affirmed, this time taking care to suppress the knee-jerk twitch of his arm. 

“Well,” Longarm sighed, shifting his grip slightly, “I suppose there’s nothing to be done…” 

He went to move one of his hands away and both of them froze. Slowly, as if stunned, Longarm shifted his servos over the spot they rested on Blurr’s thigh again, experimentally. There was another dead pause, and Blurr wanted to offline right then and there. 

Longarm’s palm came away wet, when he pulled it back; viscous strands connecting them for a brief moment before breaking and drooling down his wrist plating. Blurr’s intake felt clogged, like he was trying to prevent himself from performing a fuel purge. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, optics unable to tear away from his superior’s face. Longarm’s jaw set itself grimly as he slowly turned his hand over. A sharp, heady scent became apparent then, and Blurr visibly cringed. 

“Agent Blurr,” Longarm spoke carefully, “you’re lubricating.” 

The cables in Blurr’s neck contracted violently in reaction, so tight he felt light-headed as his fuel circulation cut off. 

“I’msorrySirI’msosorrySirIt’snotwhatitlookslikeImeanitislubricantbutIpromiseit’snotanarousedreactionIneeditforwhenIrunsoIhaveaboveaverageproductionlevelsatalltimesand-”

Continuing to babble, Blurr tried to close his legs, but one of Longarm’s hands had come down from behind and it stopped him, pressing between his thighs. He broke off with a strangled yelp, mortified. Longarm was staring intently at the fork in his legs, face frighteningly blank. His detached reaction threw Blurr further into vertigo, and he ventilated in quick, high pitched whines. 

With a scientific precision, Longarm prodded two servos around the seam of Blurr’s interface panel, rubbing them together curiously when, lo and behold, they came away dry. 

“It is produced in your upper legs?” Blurr couldn’t bring himself to answer directly, hanging his head. He nodded weakly. 

“And it continues to mass-produce until you are able to make use of it, as it were?” Longarm didn’t wait for an answer, probing various spots on Blurr’s inner thighs with great interest. The wetness spread from about three inches to each side of his crotch, essentially everything not protected by the watertight seal of his private array. 

Shamed as he was, Blurr allowed it, internal mechanisms refusing to quit their straining. He was so on edge that each prod felt magnified, as pleasurable as it was frightening. There was a charge building in the lower portion of his body, born of the mounting stress in his legs and the overly stimulating touches, too small and too few to leave him anywhere but an awful limbo between self control and the probable loss of his job. Electricity, conducted by his fluids, crackled and twined with Longarm’s servos.

Smiling almost distantly down at him, his superior hummed. 

“I can see why this is problematic. However, I cannot help but point out the fact that you did not bring this to my attention until today, despite having been on the roster for this position many times before.” Blurr shifted again under his gaze, jolting abruptly when the motion dragged the back of Longarm’s hand across his interface panel. 

“How were you able to deal with the issue before?” 

That got quite a reaction. Though Blurr managed to keep his expression mostly still, Longarm was wrapped all around him, intimately aware of the stiffening grate of his internal pistons halting, the spike in his core temperature, the way his fuel pump jumped in its housing. Blurr stammered.

“I-well-it’s-not-usually-really-this-fast-I-exacorbated-the-situation-it-takes-a-lot-longer-normally-around-almost-a-decacycle-actually-”

“That’s not the answer I’m looking for.” The arm between his legs wrapped up around his waist, looping back to again caress his thigh, and Blurr lost any and all of his remaining self control.

“Longarm Prime, Sir, _please!”_ He looked directly into his superior’s optics. 

“Pleaseplease _please_ let me go!”

Longarm bent over and kissed him. Juxtaposed with the nature of their embrace, it was gentle, unobtrusive, and Blurr shuddered up into as if he was starved for the touch. It only held for a moment. Longarm was the one to pull away, gauging his reaction with a clinical stare. Blurr did not look away, the weight of the moment impressing upon him.

The hand between his legs traced wet fingertips over the bulge of Blurr’s crotch. Beneath his servos, the metal burned. 

“As your superior,” Longarm reiterated, “it is my duty to ensure that all my agents are functioning within acceptable parameters.” Blurr’s arms flexed within his hold, trembling to the beat of his spark. He could almost hear its frantic whirling beneath the suddenly loud thrum of their combined fans. 

“I will not allow you to leave my office in this condition. Or,” and here his servos tapped the cover of Blurr’s interfacing equipment precisely, “until I have ensured that you will be taken care of if this issue reoccurs.” This was finalized with an all-encompassing squeeze of his limbs, which set Blurr revving all over again, moaning helplessly. Longarm could feel a fresh wave of lubricant seep through the mesh of Blurr’s thighs. 

He stepped back, carefully urging Blurr to do the same. With an awkward discord, they stumbled over to Longarm’s desk chair, which he sat in heavily. Never retracting his arms, he pulled Blurr close. Ah, but he felt so good in Longarm’s lap. Perched, jittery but oddly complacent, Blurr’s optics swiveled nervously between them.  

Not wanting to overstep his boundaries any more than he had already, Longarm searched his face for any actual signs of distress beyond the crippling embarrassment. As lovely as Blurr would be, bound and bouncing above him, he was in no position to draw further attention to himself. Not now. 

But no strife was present in his gaze. Blurr’s spark throbbed in his chest, the glass of his optics bright and alluring as he almost half glanced down his nose-plate at his boss. If anything, Blurr’s condition had only warmed him up to the idea faster. 

Longarm leaned in for a second kiss. Blurr pushed eagerly into him, testing the hold on his arms hopefully. No chances were being taken today, though. Longarm would not release him.  

This was, of course, not necessarily an unpleasant turn of events for Blurr. Longarm palmed his captive’s panel, tugging them closer together until his hand was the only barrier between them. Excited as he was, he kept his face blank, silent. Blurr was unwinding before him, a bundle of nerves, and it was both amusing and highly arousing to watch him baulk with uncertainly. He refrained from making commentary though, testing the waters. 

“This-is-really…” Blurr ground against him dryly, whining out a butchered string of pleads and compliments. Frustratingly, though, he did not open, choosing instead to flick his hips foreword in short, limited motions. Insistent, Longarm wriggled his servo tips into the seams of the paneling. 

“Are you going to allow me to continue?” he tried to keep his voice kindly, but Blurr shied away and he knew he had failed. 

“It’s just…”

Longarm dug into the seam and Blurr keened, surprised and hurt and _terribly_ aroused. His panel snapped back so fast Longarm almost caught his servos in it. Blurr again looked upset, torn between apologizing and begging, and Longarm could not help but notice that the reason for it was the flood of lubricant that now freely poured forth from behind his covering, even though Blurr’s secondary seal remained shut. He had been designed this way to protect his dignity, to assure that the buildup of excess lubrication would be burned out in his thighs and remain hidden in areas that received less stress, but now the very same formatting was what drove him to this become quivering mess at Longarm’s mercy. 

Still, he tried to retain some sense of self control, lifting his shoulders a bit as he presented himself. Longarm hummed quietly, watching as the opalescent liquid drizzled down from Blurr’s thighs to his own, hot and potent. Ah, it was going to be difficult to hold back. 

“You must feel such pressure,” he marveled, rubbing his thumb against the thin plating of Blurr’s secondary panel. Rather unsurprisingly, it snapped back immediately, baring all that lay beneath. Blurr instinctively tried to close his thighs again, biting his lip, and his little grunt of effort tinted with shame made the corners of Longarm’s mouth turn up predatorily. 

He scissored two servos around the lips of Blurr’s valve and drug them slowly back and forth. It was sopping wet, heat breathing along Longarm’s palm.

“My my,” he said. 

Blurr shuttered his optics, unconsciously tightening his servos on the arm behind him. The rubber was overly pliant with heat, soft and willing under Longarm’s touch. More than that, it was far beyond receptive. Sensory nodes that peppered the lower half of his body, normally dormant, now burned with stimulus as his processor’s sub-routines confusedly sent mixed signals south. 

Now the feathery touches were nothing short of torture. Gears in his thighs ground and screeched. Longarm pressed his thumb into the top of the slit, just brushing a swollen cluster of nerves, and Blurr arched his back until his struts bent. 

“Oh, Sir, I-can’t-I-can’t-I-can’t-” 

Longarm’s thumb swirled around the top in tight concentric circles. His arm tightened around Blurr’s waist, a grip he could feel down to his very _core_ , and everything burned.

Blurr overloaded, wailing, shaking in his static pose while his valve spiraled in on nothing. Patiently waiting through his spasms, Longarm enjoyed a full knowledge of every minute twitch, every fluxuation in Blurr’s field. Blurr slumped forward with a loud expulsion of air, whining. His charge danced around the points stressed most by Longarm’s touch, still alive with energy. 

“I think we can do better than that.” 

Longarm pulled his thumb away, simultaneous to the retraction of his own interface panel. His spike slid up between then, fully pressurized for longer than he would have liked to admit. The hot weight of it pressed against Blurr’s thigh and he gasped brokenly, valve contracting again. 

“Oh Pri-Sir, I…” Idle hands massaged his aft and Blurr stammered himself into a state of crisis. 

“Please,” he said, “Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“You’re getting into quite the habit of saying that.” Longarm smiled fondly. An arm binding Blurr’s chest slithered against the glass as he shifted his grip and Blurr panted wetly. 

“Most unprofessional of you, Agent Blurr.” One of his hands pulled between Blurr’s legs so that he could grasp his own cable, lining it up until the tip gently prodded the slick valve lips apart. This had the consequence of tightening him even further around his agent, to the point of pain. Blurr chocked out a strained whine as his plating dented. 

“I suppose I cannot fault you for it.” Longarm pressed inside in one fluid motion. Blurr swallowed him easily, clenching sporadically as lubricant bubbled out around his girth. So incredibly slick, Blurr moaned with an almost mad quality of desperation. They sat in a moment of stillness, Longarm petting his thighs, feeling him pant and struggle and ripple around his spike. 

Slowly, he drew back out, until his head barely kissed the florescent rim. Blurr shook.

“Lo-Longarm-Sir I really can’t-can’t-this-isn’t-really fair you should-I-need-Sir- _Sir_ -”

Longarm shut him up with a quick upward thrust, spreading him so nicely, so well, he might have cried. The silence didn’t last long, of course, because then he was pulling back out again, beginning a pattern of slow, forceful thrusts, and Blurr’s words dissolved into meaningless expulsions of sound and static. 

Increasing his speed, Longarm leaned in, nudging Blurr’s helm back and mouthing the cables protruding from his throat. Eagerly, Blurr stretched to accommodate his lips, crowing happily when denta raked down his pulse line, trying his best to praise and thank him. He was left with no other free movement, only able to endure. He wouldn’t have liked this, normally, but the tightness, the _crush._ It made him so light headed, pixels of color swimming behind his optics as errors warned him of his limited circulation. 

Still, a charge built. Longarm’s arm, draped around his waist, squeezed and released twice, hard. Blurr could feel the pressure, in waves, from his chest to his valve, as if he was gripped from the inside. 

He sobbed. 

Push, pull, push. The rhythm was steady, dedicated. Longarm was not enormous, but still, somehow, he struck the node cluster at Blurr’s valve back with nearly every stroke. The thrusts where he didn’t were both a reprieve and a torment. 

“There,” Longarm cooed, still so composed, even as he huffed and puffed, “you’re alright now, aren’t you?” Blurr garbled an attempt to respond, revving loudly.

 A particularly hard roll bounced him back against the desk with a loud clang and he shrieked. Pushing him against it again, Longarm held him there, working into him with ever increasing strength. Blurr began to overheat dangerously, steam rising out of his transformation seams. The crunch in his legs eased, constant friction concentrating the energy charged there into a hot ball in the bowl of his pelvis. He was very, very wet, only focusing the burn more acutely. 

He off-lined his optics as sloppy kisses trailed up the side of his jaw. Longarm moved his mouth almost like a foreign object, like he didn’t really know how to use it. It implied a kind of voracity that made Blurr shiver, wordlessly encouraging him by stretching his neck cables tight, inviting. Their chests pressed together and he could feel the thrum of a spark against his own; exaggerated, surely, by the sheer intensity of the moment, because it felt impossibly large.

“Oh, Blurr,” breathed Longarm, lips bumping against Blurr’s audio receptors. There was a sort of tenderness in the gesture that Blurr had not expected, an honest, soft tint to his tone. 

It was too much. Blurr contracted around him with a frantic pulse. Every ridge and protrusion along the shaft of Longarm’s cord locked into the folds of his valve for a burning nano-klik. 

Blurr overloaded with a sluice of lubricant, shocked taught in his bindings.

Hugging him tight, Longarm held perfectly still. Blurr struggled in his lap, squeezing Longarm’s spike as Longarm had squeezed him. He cried out once, a long, jagged wail that made Longarm offline his own optics, unable to hide his grin. 

 It was like this, pressed close and unmoving, that he found his own overload. Blurr whined pathetically against him, still trapped, accepting his transfluid with another worn twitch. It sloshed out between them, adding to the mix already ruining the flooring.

 Humming peacefully in his release, Longarm savored the moment. Their fans whirred to a halt, leaving their ventilations the only sound in the room. Longarm sighed deeply, keeping them together just a little longer before his optics lit again and slowly retracting his arms. They were stiff from exertion, clicking oddly when certain joints met, but judging by the way Blurr sagged against the desk for support, he had gotten the better end of the deal. 

For his part, Blurr was having a hard time processing. Caught up in the excitement, he had been able to push his doubts aside, but now as he righted himself (with great difficulty), he became quite aware of what exactly hard just transpired. Social and – oh Primus – possibly legal repercussions aside, he had also, quite honestly, hurt himself. The shock absorbers in his legs felt battered, hip joints hardly wanting to swivel down as he tried to stand. Even his shoulders ached from the constant tug, and, though he was too embarrassed to look down at the mess which consumed the entirety of his lower half, he knew there was undoubtedly denting around his waist. His wrist and thigh guards had caved to fit the contours of his limbs, wrinkled and convoluted. 

More than anything, though, was the hurt of the silence between them now. 

Longarm remained seated, sighing mildly as he surveyed the puddle on the floor. His equipment depressurized fully, retracting without hurry. He twisted until the struts in his back popped straight. It wasn’t until he had fully attended to straightening himself out that he turned to Blurr. 

He frowned.

“It looks as though you may need to visit the med-bay after all.”

Unsure of how to handle himself, Blurr reverted to _Agent Blurr_ , pulling a rusty salute. 

“Yessir, Longarm-Prime-Sir!” rather bowleggedly, he turned, already beginning to feel up to skittishness again, and proceeded swiftly to the door. _Need to leave, need to leave, need to leave._

“You aren’t planning on leaving like _that_ , are you?”

 Blurr paused. A particularly fat gob of fluid twisted down the back of his right thigh, emphasizing the point. He considered bolting.  

“Sir?” 

Heavy pedes approached from behind. 

“There’s an upper level clearance wash rack down the hall. No one else should be in the office at this time.” Servos brushed the back of Blurr’s shoulder guard, almost tentative. 

“I can escort you there if you’d like.”

Allowing his vents to open a little wider, Blurr cycled a deep gush of air. Longarm didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t remove his hand either. The pressure would have been a comfort had it not been so close to his throat, which still tingled in the little denta shaped grooves left over from-

“I-would-very-much-like-that, Sir.” 

Longarm squeezed his shoulder briefly before releasing him and walking over to the door, tapping in the pass code. Absently glancing around the deserted halls, he gestured to Blurr, still smiling. 

The breeze from the outer room’s ventilation system lapped a cool track up his inner thigh.

Blurr followed.   

  


End file.
